Not An Angel
by CoffeeFiend321
Summary: In Coldgrove, Colorado, Amber Hamilton draws pictures. Pictures of a boy with angel wings. In a graveyard outside Lawrence, Kansas, Adam Winchester wakes up...with some angelic features. Spoilers from 6x07 and on.
1. Chapter 1

**A minor idea that kind of grew (yes, this is what I do in my math class. This is how productive I am). Yes, it is mainly about Adam, but Sam and Dean and other main characters (Cas, Bobby etc.) are featured. Also, there are spoilers for season six.**

_Prologue;_

_He didn't know how long it had been. _

_Ten years? A hundred? A thousand? He didn't know anymore. He didn't care. Time didn't exactly matter in Hell. _

_If he could laugh, he would. He wasn't even twenty-one yet and he'd already crossed into Heaven and Hell. Funny enough, he wasn't sure which one he actually preferred. At least in Hell, he wasn't being manipulated and lied to by fucking angels. Then again, being torn and cut apart every possible way every day wasn't exactly a cakewalk either._

_He couldn't even die in peace. Living had been hard enough, and hell, he'll admit there were times, years ago, when his teen years took a bad turn, that he wanted to end it. But he hadn't. He couldn't leave his mom alone._

_He wondered what would have been if he had followed though._

_All he wanted was peace. Just to sleep forever, not have to worry about angels or the Devil or the Apocalypse or anything. But no, apparently that was too much to ask for. In the dark, back corner of his mind, he wonders about his brothers. Is Dean still alive? Is Sam down here with him? The thought momentarily sickens him. While the condescending, 'we are family' tone still rings in his mind, he knew Sam was only trying to help. _

_Besides, they __were__ family, weren't they?_

_Amber Hamilton woke up, shivering, her head filled with images._

_It wasn't the first time this had happened. In fact, it'd been a regular thing since her childhood that she'd wake up, freezing cold, shaking, searching frantically for her sketchbook. _

_Finally, after uprooting a pile of dirty laundry, she found it. Quickly flipping to a blank page, she held her favorite sketching pencil over it, and closed her eyes. Her hands work fast, flying across the paper with passion and deliberation. Just lines at first, then slowly, like a figure immerging from the fog, it starts to become clear._

_It was a man – no, not even a man. A boy, maybe Amber's age. He lay, sleeping on the ground. In a field? On campus? In some poor bastards front yard? _

_The pencil flew faster, the picture coming together in record time. Two arches appeared beside the boy's shoulders. Slated downwards. Harsh, straight lines disappeared, replaced by soft curves and smudged lines._

_Finally, her hand relaxed, and her mind fell quiet. Furrowing her thin eyebrows and brushing her straight, mahogany brown hair behind her ear, Amber studied the picture. _

_It was a boy, laying in a graveyard. Angel wings lay on either side of him, open like flowers in the spring. _

_The boy with angel wings._


	2. Chapter 2

**Right to the point – I will attempt (but with no guarantees) to try to update regularly, with this fiction and others. Again, no guarantees, with school and all. But I'll try my hardest. By the way, this story takes place during/after Family Matters.**

_My candle shines without a doubt  
But the wind in your wings blows them out  
and for my arms it is too late  
And your wings are gonna have to wait  
Leave me alone I am not an angel yet_

_-Not an Angel by City Sleeps_

Adam Winchester's eye snapped open.

The sky overhead was cloudy, but the veiled sun glared in his eyes all the same. His first gasp of cold air burned his lungs, sending him into a slight coughing fit. Grimacing, he inhaled slower, managing a few breaths without choking.

He was on his back, barefoot in nothing but worn jeans, with the frigid air biting at his exposed skin. Every muscle and bone in his body ached like it'd lost a fight with a bulldozer, his throat ached and burned, and he was laying on something very uncomfortable. His first attempt at sitting upright was unsuccessful, causing a wave of dizziness and nausea to slam into him. If he had eaten anything in the last God-knows-how-long, it would've come right back up.

The second attempt went better, as he managed to pull himself into a sitting position. For the first time, Adam had a clear view of where he actually was. A graveyard, overgrown with weeds and brambles. Both gravestones and crudely made crosses surrounded him.

The graveyard was hauntingly familiar.

A thousand images slammed into his mind, each flitting by at a million extremely painful miles an hour.

_Strapped to a table, screaming, bleeding to death._

_Peace in heaven, only to have to peace torn away from him._

_Suffocating, having been buried alive._

_Angels lying to him, torturing him._

_A blinding light, then only darkness._

_He couldn't remember…_

The world spun back into focus. He was back, he was alive. Adam closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands. He couldn't remember anything past being locked in that room, and the blinding light. What had happened? How long had he been gone?

It was only then that Adam's mind registered the strange, dully painful weight between his shoulder blades.

Sitting up straight, Adam reached a timid hand over his shoulder, all the while a feeling of dread starting in the pit of his stomach. Instead of feeling his own skin, his hand made contact with something soft, feathery, and definitely attached to him. Almost like –

_Uuh uh. No way, no __fucking way._

Wings. Not just any wings. Angel wings. Actual angel wings. This took irony to a whole new level.

_Ok, calm down. Just breathe. Figure this out._

But no amount of oxygen intake would stop the frantic beating of Adam's heart, or the uncontrollable shaking of his hands. What had happened? How long had he been gone? A million questions and not one answer to be found.

_Okay, first things first – how about we find some clothes?_

Right, because _that _was such a simple task; because abandoned graveyards in the middle of nowhere had clothing stores all the time. A sudden realization came into Adam's mind.

He was in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely to means of transportation, save one – flying.

All night, Amber had stared at the drawing, trying to decipher anything she could. Was it a metaphor, some kind of symbolism? Was there really somebody walking around with wings?

She hadn't even realized her alarm going off until Caroline Finnick, her morning-abhorring roommate gave a muffled wail of "make it stop." Amber had been living in the dorms at Hightower University with Caroline for almost a year now. Nearly every morning Caroline had slept through the alarm clock, resulting in a frenzied rush to the dorm showers and search through the closet. At first, Amber had observed these mornings with amusement; that is until Caroline reaped vengeance by unplugging the alarm clock altogether.

Giving the snooze button a light tap and flipping her sketchbook closed, Amber stood from her bed and opened the mini-fridge in the corner, retrieving two apples from the bottom shelf.

"Breakfast for Champions." She said, before tossing one of the red, cool fruits to Caroline, who had managed to right herself into a sitting position. With a small, almost delicate snort, she polished the apple on her abstract cover before taking a bite. While she wasn't a morning person, Caroline's first priority before waking up was food and coffee.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Caroline asked quietly, brushing strands of her platinum blonde hair from her face. Amber's blue eyes avoided her gaze, before muttering a reply of "Fine, I guess.", while polishing her own apple on her sweater sleeve. She felt twitchy and restless, the dorm room suddenly feeling too confined and warm.

"I'm going to the library for a while." Amber said, grabbed her jacket off the back of her desk chair and sketchbook off her bed. Without another word, she opened the door and left, leaving a baffled Caroline behind.

The earth and frozen and undisturbed, offering no warmth or comfort. The stillness of the air would have made anyone else uneasy.

For Castiel, it was a sign. He weaved his way through the tombstones, every instinct heightened and ready. He knew the landscape well – a few feet away from him was where he was killed, and then promptly resurrected for the second time, where Dean Winchester had stopped the apocalypse.

Where Lucifer and Michael had fallen into the Cage.

But that ground had been disturbed. By what, he didn't know yet. But the dark, burnt grass formed a perfect circle, and in the center the grass was flat, as if something – or someone had been laying there.

Laying a hand on the burnt earth, Castiel's suspicions became clear; whatever had been laying here was now gone.

But whatever it had been, it had risen from the Cage.

**Pff, crappy cliffhanger. More or less just wanted to get this chapter out here so you guys would know I haven't forgotten you. Anywho, hopefully new update soon.**

**CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS IN FIVE DAYS! WHOOT!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I figured I should answer some questions/respond to some comments.**

**There is only one pairing in this fiction. Hopefully it's obvious who, but it will NOT be the main focus of the story. **

**Sam and Dean will come in, as will a fair amount of other characters. **

**There will be romance, but I want most of the story dynamics to be between the brothers.**

**Amber has a purpose, past just being a romantic interest.**

**So, now for review questions;**

**Castiel Anna together forever- **

**Thanks for the review! The whole Adam's-wings thing will be sorted out in this chapter.**

**TheLadyPendragon-**

**Sam and Dean will also come into this chapter and Castiel will be featured as well! Thank you for the reviews!**

**I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I had exam week and a bunch of other stuff going on, so that took a lot of my time.**

**Spot the Buffy reference, win a cookie **

He hated heights. Ever since he was six and had tried in vain to retrieve a kite that the wind had greedily swept away into the branches of a nearby tree, and ended up stuck almost eight feet up. It was only about ten minutes before his mother had realized his peril, but it'd felt like hours.

Now Adam was staring at the cold, grey sky, wondering how far he was from civilization. Of course, he'd still have to walk for the most part, since he figured that swooping into town on angel's wings (literally) wasn't the best entrance. But if he could get airborne he could see how far town was exactly, and possibly obtain some clothing. Or at least a sweater.

Unfurling his wings was easy, like stretching his arms out. It took him three tries to get at least a foot off the ground. It was easier to get his wings in motion if he moved his arms up and down with them – something he hoped he _wouldn't_ need to repeat on a regular basis. He nearly gave up after spiraling head-first into a nearby gravestone, but as he stood up, cursing under his breath, the offending gravestone had given him an idea.

Amber was half-way to the campus library before realizing she was still wearing her Yummy-Sushi pajama bottoms and white tank top. Fortunately it was Saturday, so it wasn't unusual that students wandered around in pajamas, at least not on Hightower campus.

The library was nearly empty, and Amber was grateful for it. She dropped her jacket on one of the empty tables in the center of the large room, and then began wandering through the tall, wooden shelves. Amber wasn't sure what she was hoping to find, but she knew what she was looking for. Thanks to the library's lack of alphabetical organization, Amber ended up wandering for longer than she wanted. But finally, she found it. Nestled between _Medicines_ and _Engineering_, sat three shelves stuffed with several ornate looking books. The small, beige label underneath read: _Religion and Mythology._

Since she didn't have the patience to go rifling page-by-page through the Bible, all Amber was left with was reference books. There was a surprising few there, but she took what she could. _Angels; a Look at the Myth and Reality, Guardians and Warriors; how Angels Influence our Society, _and _A Dictionary of Angels_ were the best she found. Making a mental note to use Goggle later, Amber sat down at her table, and flipped to the back of the index, looking for one word.

_Fallen._

Getting to the top of the mausoleum was the easy part. Actually having the courage to jump off was the difficult part.

Adam mentally counted to three, and before he could chicken out, launched himself off the top of the crypt, excepting to impact with the cold, hard ground. Except he didn't.

The wings seemed to act on instinct, launching him up in the air. Adam yelled, and then laughed, despite the cold air biting into his skin. Remembering his goal, he scoured the landscape, finding nothing but trees and empty fields. Finally, a couple of miles down the abandoned dirt road sat a pathetic looking gas station.

After a less-than-graceful landing, Adam folded his wings against his back, than set off, still struggling to remember anything between the bright light and now.

She was falling asleep. The text seemed to swirl around the page, and Amber found herself reading one page, than skipping to the next without registering any of the words.

Every single book she looked through said the exact same thing about fallen angels; disobeyed God, unforgivable sin, fell from Heaven, prime example was Lucifer, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Sighing in frustration, Amber closed the books. What was she even doing here? There was no evidence that her drawing was meant to be taken literally. She'd never pursued a vision like this. Usually there was nothing to pursue. All her life, she'd drawn strange things in perfect detail, even though she'd never had a drawing lesson in her life. Why did it matter now? Because she'd never had a dream that vivid, she realized. She could hear the boy's thoughts, see his surroundings; fire, brimstone and stalactites. An angel in Hell, or at least what looked like Hell.

After returning the books to their places, Amber left the library and made a beeline for the cheap-coffee vending machine. No sooner had she remember that she didn't have any change on her did the pay phone beside it started to ring. Nobody has used the pay phone in years – cell phones had taken over in terms of communication, and Amber jumped at the sudden noise.

Almost automatically, Amber picked up the phone. She mentally scolded herself for doing so, until the voice on the other end spoke up.

"Amber?"

She froze, her grip on the phone tightening.

"Amber, is that you?" the voice was completely unfamiliar. It was a woman's voice, probably middle aged, but definitely a stranger's.

"Who are you?" Amber finally managed to ask. "How do you know my name?"

"Amber, listen to me," the voice said. "Did you find him yet?"

"Find who?"

"The Milligan boy, Adam."

"_What?_ Who are you-" Amber started.

"The boy in your drawing." The voice interrupted. Amber froze again.

"How do you know about that?" she asked quietly. "Who are you?"

"Listen to me, you-"

"_Who are you?"_ Amber asked angrily, trying to stop her hands from shaking. There was a pause on the other line, before the voice spoke again.

"My name is Missouri Moseley." She said. "I'm a psychic, like you."

**There! Finally! Gods, this took a while, but my laptop decided to not work on my for about a month, and I was terrified that I'd lost what I had done on this chapter. But, thank Kripke, it did save. **

**More to come, hopefully soon!**


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